


A Glowing Silence

by Ourania



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Deaf Character, Deaf Inquisitor, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-16 22:51:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7287862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ourania/pseuds/Ourania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A voice was not necessary to convey meaning. A single warming gaze was all the light she’d ever need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Glowing Silence

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short one-shot being reposted from my [tumblr](http://ourfadingstars.tumblr.com) with some minor editing. It's also my first fic here on ao3, yay! Hopefully more will follow soon. Just to note, Karaas is deaf.

Kaaras has never heard the sound of Josephine’s voice before.

It’s not strange to her. Lips move but only air comes from them. She sees the words in their movements. She has gone most of her life without knowing the voices of others, only ever recalling the soft, strained call of her mother. With time, that memory passes. It was in her youth, before the illness had settled in.

Those times were difficult for her.

The silence, at first, was cold. When mouths opened, voices would jump out at her and give such warmth, painting images with words. She’d see all of them melt in her head, a blank canvas with endless potential. But the silence stole it all away. The vivid imagery could not, _would not_ form. It angered her. She wished it all away.

She’d ball her hands into tiny fists and bash them against the walls, craving to hear the wood splinter. Kaaras would feel her skin breaking, see blood pulsing, but nothing. She would scream, using what she remembered to recreate it. Her mouth would hurt from stretching so wide. And she wondered if her mother would hear her, stirring from her sleep and stumbling away, or if her little brother would jump from his bed in fear.

Her eyes would watch the door. Big and round, they’d stalk the entrance like a bird of prey, baiting and goading the hunt. Her mother never came and her brother slept, snoring away, but she could only see it in the fluttering sheets. She never made a sound. That was far more frightening that the coldness could ever be.

Would it never return to her?

She was like that for some years, resenting the illness that took her hearing, her voice. One still existed, but without the other, it was useless. She felt useless. And for some time, she believed that would never change.

But somehow, it did. Her brother pushed and prodded her, staying at her side when she wanted to be swallowed up. Her father took her out for hunting trips on the days when she hid under the sheets, showing her tricks to make an arrow soar, guiding her with his thick and clumsy hands. Her mother would grab her wrist, facing palms up to trace shapes with her index finger, slow and patient, even when Kaaras refused.

They still tried when she gave up.

With her family, she had purpose. She could shove her brother down and threaten him with her burning eyes. She was a far better shot than her father, striking vital regions with precision and saving the animal from pain. She would stand alongside her mother, holding conversations with a smile that surpassed the one she bore as a babe. They showed her that.

She came back out, slowly, into the world she had hated. It took time, step after step. But she found a strange feeling. The quietness was no longer cold. There was a flame, burning weakly, but growing. That made her smile. It felt soothing in a way, calming, _hers_.

That fire could only be commanded by her. It would grow larger or dimmer with her wish, but it would never die out. She was the bearer of it, and held that torch high for all to know. The silence used to be a stranger, but now she welcomed it like an old friend.

And that warmth could spread, being shared by others in their movements. A voice wasn’t needed to show glee, malcontent, anger—it could be found in eyes, and hips, and arms, and legs. A blushing glow, a shaking fist, straightened back. She could see the colours reforming into glowing flames, spitting fires.

Each person had a fire inside them. Through the quiet, she could find them.

 _This_ was her world. It was brighter than before, better. The silence made her see more, hear more beyond what she had. At times, the coldness would return, daring to snuff out her flame. But all she had to do was watch the scribe dressed in golden satin, dabbing her ink, and let the feather go.

Her light was bright. It was softer, muted, but always there. She was the morning sunlight, glowing on crashing waves. Quiet but forceful, calm and passionate. Kaaras would smile.

She’d turn her head, dark locks catching in the sun, and set her eyes on Kaaras. Her lips would soften and her hands would move. A flick of the wrist, or a more meaningful gesture was always ready at hand. She spoke with her whole being, never holding back.

A voice was not necessary to convey meaning. A single warming gaze was all the light she’d ever need.


End file.
